Un
by Paint a story. Write a picture
Summary: Full Synopsis at the top of Chapter 1. This story is rated T for violence and swearing, all graphic sexual content has been removed.
1. Chapter 1 Courtesy

Full Synopsis: 9Daron99 lives a hard life, as the best player in Runescape. Being famous isn't all glamorous, soon, you find yourself surrounded by the crowds all too much, and, all of a sudden, a new girl walks into his life, Tyora, who recognises that. Meanwhile, Gielinor's secret service, Pre-MI6, are running into trouble, around the clock. They're getting reports of deaths, and a decrease in population - this can only mean one thing, people are dying, and staying dead. Who's doing the killings? And how can they be stopped?

Author's Note: This story is rated M for extreme violence, and possible future plots including mild or extreme sexual references. Please, if you don't want to read all of it, at least R&R the first chapter.

**Un**

**Chapter 1: Courtesy**

Bang. Slash. Crash.

The Dragon Axe came crashing down upon the Magic Tree, stripping it down into logs from the bark of the tree. Daron had 99 Woodcutting, but he wanted to get some Magic Logs anyway, to sell, just for the hell of it. 9Daron99 was the top player in Runescape, there was no dispute. He was more famous was Kingduffy1, Zezima, and Yogosun1. 99 in every stat, 259 Quest Points, all music tracks, and nearly maxing the allowed amount of money he could keep in his bank. Life for him was excellent, he was always surrounded by worshippers, people who wanted to compliment him and be around him, he was the most famous player. Sometimes, he liked being on his own, but most of the time, he was happy to be loved by so many. He maxed his inventory with Magic Logs, and brought them over to the bank, where he stored them and returned to the Magic Trees. Suddenly, some random person piped up,

"Oh my god, it's 9Daron99!"

"Where?"

"Daron! We love you!"

Daron smiled, and waved at the people surrounding him. He walked over to the Magic Trees, as the crowd followed him.

"Will you do an interview?"

"You rock!"

"G0 D4r0n!"

"Noob."

"D0nt c4ll meh n00b j00 1d10t." Daron sensed an argument coming, but did not say anything.

"I'll call you whatever I want."

"Yeah, don't talk leet, leet stinks."

"Nothing wrong with it."

"You siding with him?"

"No ... I just said there's nothing wrong with it."

"4dd meh?"

"No ..." said the man who had said he didn't mind the leetspeak, with a rather harsh tone in his voice.

"T00 b4d n00b." A woman nearby coughed loudly, Daron knew what she was thinking. "Alright, stop arguing, you two," Daron announced. Immediately they stopped.

"Hey man, show us your house!"

"Yeah, we wanna see your house!"

"House, house, house ...!" Someone chanted, and others joined in, all chanting for him to show them his house.

"Yeah, fine," said Daron, as cheers erupted, he walked towards Fremenik. The crowd followed him eagerly. More started to join the crowd, intrigued at who was leading it. To Daron's concern, many low-levels died as they passed White Wolf Mountain. It, at least, reduced the crowd. Then, one died from a nearby wolf near Relleka. Daron stopped by the house portal, and entered his name, as it granted entrance. His house, having 99 construction, had to be pretty incredible, and, indeed, it was a sure haven. The formal gardens were alive with the magic trees emanating power, and the glorious fountains spurting water in all directions. The surrounding rooms were made of white marble, displaying trophies and armour, glorious furniture and signs of his level, all his skillcapes hanging from a display, for people to gaze at, a throne room above an oubliette which, to Daron's amusement, seemed to catch alot of people out. There were more than a hundred, possibly two-hundred in his house, all eagerly following Daron wherever he went. There were people drinking from his Chef's Delight barrels, making themselves tea, sitting on the chairs and benches, going down to the dungeon, praying at the chapel, fighting in the oubliette, examining the garden, the parlour, and the bedroom. Daron went outside, looking all around at the crowd following him eagerly. There was spamming, worshipping, people asking for interviews, people asking him to add them, all sorts of people everywhere. He walked into the Throne Room again, and, expectedly, everybody was there with him.

"Daron, I love you!"

"9Daron99, would you give an interview?" Daron sighed. Why did everyone think they would get an interview if they asked, he wondered. Most of his life, he had been able to tolerate these people, but, suddenly, he found himself, a bit more irritated than usual. He felt like he needed some alone time, he wanted to be able to continue cutting mage logs without the pressure of the crowd. Still, he sat in his throne, then eventually got up to wander around the house. Several challenged him to the Combat Ring, he grudgingly agreed, even though he beat everybody who challenged him. About, half-an-hour had passed, and 9Daron99 was feeling like he had not done recently. He just wanted to be alone, just for a few glorious minutes ... There was only one answer. He fumbled around in his pocket for a short black object, with five buttons, and a room count, building mode on, building mode off, leave house, expel guests, and lock portal. He pressed the expel guests button, and then quickly pressed the lock portal button. He was just slow enough to let through one woman, who found herself, solitary, in the vast house, alone with Daron all of a sudden. The woman saw Daron reach for the expel guests button. Her eyes widened.

"No, wait, stop a second!" The woman cried. Daron paused, finger hovering over the button. "Please, before you get rid of me, just listen to what I have to say."

Daron slipped the house control into his pocket, intrigued. The woman walked over to him, and Daron examined her more closely. Daron looked, interested, to see that she, too, was Level 132. Her name was Tyora, and she was dressed in elaborate White Mystic, carrying a Mystic Mud Staff, wearing a red party-hat instead of a mystic hat, and brandishing a hitpoints skillcape. She carried a dragon warhammer, and a dragon shield, wearing boots of lightness, and thick dragonhide gloves. The overall effect made her look respectable, but beneath the armour and weapons, she was also quite beautiful.

"Your name's a rare one," said Daron. Tyora nodded. "Anyway, what do you have to say?" Daron inquired. Tyora walked into the parlour.

"Do you mind if I sit down, Daron?" She said, with the air of a person who familiarised herself with everything and everyone straight away. She relaxed into the chair, arms loosely upon the arm, inviting him to sit down himself, which amused Daron, as he sat down beside her. She gazed absently at the ceiling, before remembering she was supposed to be talking to Daron. She straightened up.

"I could see you, among the crowd, all that time. I've seen so many famous people, I'm actually quite high up on the hiscores myself, I have some good links," she started. "Yogosun and I are actually regular buddies, we meet up all the time. It's pretty nice actually. Anyway, I see fame all the time, so, restraining myself from shouting "You rock," is pretty easy. Infact, I came to this house to see how you were doing facing all those people. I've snapped so many times when me and my friends are surrounded by a whole crowd." Daron nodded, thinking about how he had eventually been unable to contain his anger, and evicted everybody from the house. She was not looking at anywhere in particular, rather vaguely gazing in the direction of the bookcase, leaning forwards, hands on her lap. "I saw you, and how you were driven to the point up to where you had to get rid of everybody. If I was surrounded by the same amount of people in my own home, I'd have done the same." Daron looked at her.

"Alright, I understand, now tell me what you're here to talk to me about," said Daron, with a hint of annoyance and amusement at the same time.

"I just think that, coming here, you and me are so alike, and, I can so sympathize for the kind of strain constant fame puts on you." Still, she was looking at nowhere in particular, but she maintained her composure, her face emotionless, making it impossible to read her thoughts. Daron cocked his head in agreement.

"I still don't see why you're here," said Daron.

"To extend a courtesy," she said, getting up from her seat, and looking at him. "I'd just like to say that, I'm not someone who's there to interview you, or shout at you, or spam near you, or praise you, but someone who's there if you need me. I've often been interested in meeting you, not for the experience, to say 'I've met 9Daron99,' but just to say that I respect you as a figure of fame and fortune, and I'm sympathetic to the kind of things you're getting from your followers." Daron considered what she was saying, wondering whether to accept this as an offer of friendship, or, as she had said, a mere courtesy.

"Oh, and by the way, you ought to upgrade your portal, it was actually locked before I entered." With that, she took out a black house control, pressed a button in the middle, and vanished. These last words made no difference to Daron, he examined the top-of-the-range exit portal, running a hand over the smooth surface. Daron raised his hand to the air, and used his index finger to trace the words, 'Tyora'. They appeared, shining neon yellow, suspended in the air, before vanishing, like Tyora had done, onto Daron's friend list.


	2. Chapter 2 Pre MI6

**Un**

**Chapter 2: Pre-MI6**

Yanath sat in his office seat, leaning forward, his hands resting on the plastic arms of the chair, concern spreading across his face, his electric blue eyes, showing the face of a man that was born to be eccentric, and, yet, chose to be plain. But, Yanath was not quite plain. True, he dressed immaculately, in a crease-less dark grey suit, and black tie, his hair, black, and straightened, it seemed, with a clothing iron, tucking the small tuft of hair covering the back of his neck into his collar. And, yet, Yanath held alot of power in his hands, a power that he acknowledged, but, had the tact not to proclaim. As the head of the whole Gielinorian division of Pre-MI6, he held a responsibility for the lives of all existing in Gielinor now. He once had been top of the highscores, but, the trophy, sitting in his expensive house in Yanille, was rather crowded next to the numerous - if 'numerous' was a sizeable word enough - amount of trophies and awards sitting next to it. Yanath had met many important figures in his lifetime, priests heading the four most powerful churches in Gielinor, members of the board from foreign divisions of Pre-MI6, celebrities, Kingduffy 1, 9Daron99, the like, and yet, he was a man that did not like to claim arrogance because of the person he was, and the things he had done in his entire lifetime. As he leaned forward on his chair, now, he sat beside the deputy, Aren, a thin, elderly man, prim, neat, and smug, who sat beside a man called Ret. Ret was not paying much attention, idly studying his fingernails, while Yanath and Aren were intent upon the screen in front of them, projected by a special magic that only Pre-MI6 were able to harness. Unlike other divisions, outside of Gielinor, they took magic for granted, and harnessed it as a part of their everyday lives, much like the rest of the population of Gielinor.

On the screen, was a map of Gielinor, on it, were small, red dots with a black centre, this map was used to show land elevation, population, deaths, monsters, magic being used, weapons, it could track practically anything and everything, and was thereby used as such. Each dot colour had a code meaning, the map there in front of Yanath, Aren, and Ret, was showing deaths. About a year ago, there had been several terrorism attacks in the Wilderness, from a legion called Ghost Knife, Pre-MI6 had battled there, and, eventually, used their magic to close the Wilderness down, and stop anything else from happening. This meant that the red dots should be heavily focused around the Duel Arena, Castle Wars, Bounty Hunter, and other reality leaks situated throughout Gielinor, of course, there would never be a clearance of red dots from places where there were high and mid-level monsters, Dragon Habitats were also a population flux, as Aren frequently termed it. Sometimes there were low level monsters there, too.

Yanath and Aren had checked both realms, the realms colloquially named the "non-member worlds," and the "member worlds." Naturally, in the first, there was a higher concentration of population flux in all areas, generally, than the members, which were slightly more concentrated on common flux sectors. And yet, it was only recently, that the map had excelled the average readings. Population flux was being shown in phenomenally greater amounts, in - literally - every region of Gielinor, and similar reports were coming from neighbouring worlds. This meant, in short, that something, or someone, was on a mass-murder spree. And, what concerned Pre-MI6 the most, is that they weren't coming back. Aren had cross-references map readings from the population and the population flux, he had seen several dots dissapear off the map, and, several, not returning to the respawn point, Lumbridge.

And, Pre-MI6 were specially involved in this for a reason. They were the secret service of Gielinor, at least, the Gielinor Division. They were named after the secret service in a world very far away, tales of the world called Earth had passed from the pharoes of the pyramids of Iganavor, across the Gotanavor sea, and over the mountainous plains of Jubanador, all over to Gielinor. But, nobody had ever voyaged there. It was a far land. Still, that wasn't was Pre-MI6 were concerned with. They were the protectors of Gielinor, stopping threats from the evil, picking up and jailing those who broke the fourteen lawful commandments, the rules that governed Gielinor, and had done, from it's founding.

Finally, somebody spoke.

"I told you something suspicious was going on, you two," said Ret, without looking up, a simple expression on his face politely concealing boredom. Aren looked at him indignantly.

"You mean, that you reported the unorthodox death of one friend, and allowed us to cross-reference charter maps of Gielinor, studying the permanent population flux occuring across the regions," he replied, in a harsh tone. Yanath looked at him, and his eyes told him to leave it, before returning to the screen. Then, he spoke up himself.

"I thank you for alerting us, Ret561, we may be on to something serious. But, I must ask you to leave now." Ret silently got up from the leather seat, and showed himself out, without replying. Yanath raised a hand, and cast a spell, that stopped in front of the map, and formed a screen, showing a clear picture of the man outside, ear pressed to the door intently. He then slid back a panel on his chair, revealing a set of black buttons without labels, it did not matter, he knew exactly what each one did. He pressed one, and watched, as a blue hole opened up in the floor beneath Ret, he fell into the teleport, and dissapeared. The monitor screen dissapeared, and they returned their attention to the map.

* * *

The shadowy figure, hidden in the darkness of the night, walked, unpertubed, across the stony path of the silent Rimmington, bathed in utter darkness. It was impossible to discern one from another in the midnight hour. But it didn't matter, it was enchanted with a sight charm, the allowed it to see clearly for miles ahead, in infrared, ultraviolet, and through darkness at thought command. It stopped, a small distance from the house portal, ahead, waiting, observing the rippling, purple-pink surface of the teleport patiently, waiting for a disturbance in the ever-disturbed pool of magic held in an iron ring, sealed to the floor by an ancient magic. Slowly, the portal began to extend slightly more, and, from the purple, glowing light, a figure emerged, like stepping from a purple waterfall that, by some feat, still left him dry. He was tall, wearing a scarf and a feathered hat, with a silverlight sword in hand, and an elemental shield in the other. In the dull breeze, his quest cape flickered idly, and his white robes rippled slightly. A perfect target. This one would be carrying plenty of valuable items. The figure in the shadows raised both cupped hands, and, the last thing that man saw, was a slowly burning, fierce white light, grow in the darkness, suspend in the shadows, and then hit him in the chest. As the powerful white energy drove into him, magic spread throughout his bloodstream, and decimated his veins and arteries, swimming around, vaporizing anything in his body it found, the man fell to his knees, as his body started to tear away, leaving behind, a horrible skeleton, some remaining body organs either dropping to the ground, or encased by the frame, quite stationary, and quite vivid. Scraps of remaining, red flesh still lay torn about the corpse, and remains of the brain lay splattered about the floor, a pool of blood in his wake. The figure emerged from the shadows, and she cast one last spell upon the corpse, a forbidden spell, banished by the fourteenth lawful commandment, as a form of black magic, never allowed to be harmonised. The figure evaporated into the air, and the vapour of what was left, descended into the ground, down to Zamorak's realm, a place called by some spiritualists; "Hell". It was a horrible way to end a horrible way to be killed.


	3. Chapter 3 The Bomanavor Mission

**Un  
****Chapter 3: The Bomanavor Mission**

Daron and Tyora sat by the wonderful glistening pool of water that stretched all the way to the other side of the Lake Quart. It was named because, estuaries and all, it spread out over a quarter of the whole of Bomanavor. It was the only of seven worlds that retained it's own water before entering the Gotanavor Sea, a magic cast by the gods of Bomanavor - Shaph, Trienta, Oudon, and Plaen - purified the lake water of Bomanavor eternally, allowing fresh, drinkable water, and life beneath. Daron and Tyora sat on the soft grassy plain that ended before a curtain of tall, glorious trees, next to Lake Quart, fishing rods in hands, bobbing in the water gently, waiting for a bite on the other end.

"A jerk on one end of the line, waiting for a jerk on the other end of the line," a friend of Daron had said, who had not, altogether, been that keen on fishing. But this was blissful, to sit, together, all alone, far away from Gielinor, on their own, under the sun of Oudon, watching the dark shapes move beneath the water, swimming away and towards their lines. Suddenly, Daron felt his line go down slightly. Instinctively, he leapt to his feet, wrenching the rod out of the water, pulling the reel back, tugging on the stubborn fish at the other end, which must've been surprised to feel all of this, suddenly. And then, it emerged from the water. It was quite big, a royal blue, with glistening scales still attached to the slowly dying creature. It wasn't a shark, infact, it looked like nothing ever found in Gielinor. Tyora clapped a hand on his back.

"Nice catch!" She said. Daron pocketed the fish into his inventory, beaming at her.

"So, why was it you wanted to go away with me, anyway?" She asked him, curiousity filling her radiant face. Daron smiled back at her.

"Long story."

"Long holiday," remarked Tyora. "I've got all the time in the world." So, Daron began.

* * *

_"Come on, we're going to win!" Chaos. That was the only word needed to describe the scene. It was a massive battle of the forces, one clan against another, a war, which was why the popular reality leak was named Clan Wars, a bloodthirsty battle for supremacy. Daron, gripping his double-ended sword in one hand, spun it three times, each time, it sliced the throat of an enemy, before he was tailed, back and front. With two strikes, he lunged the sword forward and back in one fast movement, it stabbed one in the heart, and one deep into the anus, immediately killing both. Then, he drove the sword into the ground, using it as a grip, he swept his foot off the floor, and knocked down three in one. Wielding a chaos rune, he cast a devastation strike in their direction, and, immediately, obliterated them into nothingness. His followers, all very skilled, were decimating the opposition just as well as he was, so far, only four had died, and the opponent's team were still dying. Soon, Daron was barely surrounded by anyone, and, one foolish enemy, attempted to sneak up behind him. Daron was very good at telling when he was being tailed. With one swift movement, he wrenched the sword from the ground, and sliced the man's throat open, he was wrought backwards, a fountain of red blood erupting from his neck._

_"We're winning!" One of Daron's teammates cried. One from the opposition, thinking that he was distracted, chose that moment to lumber towards him. Daron was not watching as the foolish enemy fell to the floor, a gaping, red wound in his diaphragm, before he started to fade away. Nor did he notice the figure, a hooded black cloak reminiscent of the Grim Reaper, standing at the side, watching the battle intently, appearing, at first, to be unarmed. But then, he drew something from his cloak. An orb? A scrying orb, perhaps? But, no, it looked more like essence, rune essence ... or ... a rune. Just a single rune. Then, he held the rune in his open hands, as it transformed into a bright white spell. He raised his hands. It was never fired. Everything stopped, as a powerful, jet-blue spell shot high into the sky, looming over all of them, making all of them look up. And then, like fireworks, it split up, and ... started to rain down upon all of them. Every magic spell that was about to be cast, or had been cast, suddenly evaporated into thin air, every sword wielded, was wrenched out of their grip, and slided into their scabbards, the spell had effectively disabled any method of battle. The shadowy figure had dissapeared, just as, the reality leak faded away, and everyone there left Clan Wars._

_"What is this, a glitch?" shouted one man._

_"Yeah, what the hell is going on?" yelled another. And then, the succeedings were a series of bellowed arguments, coming from the disgruntled crowd, before they realized who were beginning to storm in. Men and women alike, all in red wizard robes, with dragon swords wielded, a quiver and a rune-pack on their sides. On their shirts, was emblazoned, the two hyphenated words "Pre-MI6." Daron knew who they were. He had met their leader, once upon a time, and he knew, that, if they were here, something bad had happened, or was going to happen._

_"Stay still!" The general yelled, a man that Daron didn't recognise, with a roughly shaved beard, and short, close-cropped hair that was closer to baldness than hair, the colour, indiscernable. He wielded a Dragon Scimitar, and his robes were gold trimmed, a measure of the authority he held that was rivalled only by his boss and his deputy boss. Everybody halted, and, as Pre-MI6 circled the group, and others nearby, a small portion of them spread out over the area, searching for somebody or something. The General, his Scimitar, held behind his back, hands held together, walking purposefully, and slowly, towards the group, the strides he took were deliberated, and defined by the snarling look on his face, that was not real emotion, rather, the look any drill seargent would want to give to his trainees, to intimidate them. He held his sword behind his back like a cane that would whack the legs of a misbehaving adult - or child. As he walked towards them, he said,_

_"This is Pre-MI6, and we ... are here, looking for somebody. Black cloak. Black hood. And yet, this person ..." he said, through gritted teeth, "Is not stupid enough to stay in his get-up once we get here. The point is, any one of you could be this fellow, or every one of you, for that matter," he barked at the crowd, who were, indeed, starting to feel intimidated. "An anti-combat charm has been placed over this area, and teleportation has been locked. There's no way out of this area, not even on foot. We've also ensured upon a forcefield surrounding the area, which is why you can't leg it. And, if you even try, we will have to kill you." Now, beads of sweat were coming from people's faces. Daron stepped forward. The General's eyes flared, and immediately fixated on Daron, like a bull about to charge down it's prey._

_"What the hell are you doing -"_

_"I'm 9Daron99, authorization in any Code 5 under Pre-MI6 protocols." The General surveyed him with dislike._

_"Then tell me," the General leered, "If a green light falls, then what else rises?" It was a code. Anybody with Code 5 authorization - meaning the authorization to liason with any Pre-MI6 agent in the scene of an emergency, raid, inspection, etc. - would know the correct answer. And, Daron did._

_"The blue light of elsewhere," Daron recited, without missing a beat. The General smiled for once, still glaring at him._

_"Looks like he does have Code 5 authorization," the General said to the people next to him. "So, tell me. If we've picked you out of RL5," (this meant Reality Leak 5, the codename for Clan Wars,) "then you must lead a clan. Infact, only clan leaders can gain Code 5 authorization." Both men knew this. "So, you must know your clan well. Remove every member of your clan, and your clan only, from the vicinity. Those who aren't in your clan, or who you do not trust, leave here. We'll deal with them. You interview the rest of your clan in a separate area. We'll utilize RL10 for you if you need somewhere private." Daron gave a small salute, and nodded._

_"Done. But, I will need that Reality Leak."_

_"Done," said the General, in a gruff voice, and Daron started to pick out those from his clan, and lead them elsewhere, while Pre-MI6 took care of the rest._

* * *

"So, what happened?" Tyora inquired, as she caught yet another fish, and decided to stow away her rod in her bag, walking over to the grass next to Daron, who was sitting there, relaxing. It was a romantic place to be, and yet Tyora was fascinated with Daron's story.

"Interviewed every single member in my clan, but I left ... about ten, or so, to Pre-MI6, along with the other clan. Nobody died, but nobody was found guilty. Same on my part. Somehow, by some power, whoever it was, got away before Pre-MI6 got there."

"Damn. Nothing good ever happens for the people who want to protect us, eh?" She remarked. Daron smiled, and nodded.

"Of course, I was given an interrogation myself, as, I was a likely suspect, having Code 5 authorization doesn't necesarily mean you'll stay on the right side all of your life. Or, that you were even on it when you got it."

"Yeah. I have Code 5 Authorization. Unfortunately, that also makes me a prime suspect in many Pre-MI6 raids. Annoying, isn't it?" She lay down on the grass.

"Hell, yeah," said Daron, who followed suit, and sunk his head into the soft ground, next to Tyora. The sun shone down on them, lighting their features as if with a spotlight, as Daron continued the story.

_

* * *

_

"Well, Daron, I appreciate you've done all you can," said Yanath, sitting at the desk that was absent of Aren, and in front of Daron, as he always liked to put it whenever only Yanath and Daron sat at that desk. "But, as you know, there have been no results. We haven't found the operative, he or she got away before we could do anything."

_"So, what are you planning to do now," inquired Daron._

_"Well, the standard procedures, we send out a team of advanced agents over Gielinor, and search for other operatives." Daron nodded his head. Then he paused. Choosing his words carefully, he said,_

_"Have you found out who you're dealing with?" Yanath stopped. He paused, too, observing Daron. Then, slowly, Yanath also nodded his head. He brought up the multi-purpose map behind him. This time, it was labelled with silver dots._

_"They're a group who call themselves 'Ghost Knife.' An extremely powerful criminal organisation, intent on several purposes including, killing, spying, bringing down organisations or famous celebrities, among numerous other things. This ..." Yanath gestured at the multi-purpose map, Daron recognised it as an expert magic device called an omni-analysis positioning screen, they were expensive, and could track just about anything and everything. The silver dots were moving. Daron did not know, off by heart, what all dots meant, he only knew a few odd ones, silver ones, he certainly didn't recognise, although, he guessed there were one or two custom code units that could be controlled, to show whatever was wanted. "This ... is an oaps, I'm sure you know what that is." Daron nodded. As if reading Daron's mind, Yanath said, "Right now, it's showing the positions of Ghost Knife operatives up top, they're sitting ducks, basically. Only, we have two problems."_

_"It doesn't show the ones underground," Daron said, before Yanath could._

_"Correct. Also, some Ghost Knife operatives have the technology, and the magic, to cloak themselves, whether above or below ground. They can also trip the oaps, to read their position as somewhere else. They either have one, or the other. So, in short, despite what we see here, they're virtually un-trackable."_

_"Ah," Daron said, simply._

_"Now, Ghost Knife need alot of power to fool an oaps, a hell of alot of power indeed. And, power, we can track." Yanath pointed a finger at the oaps, and the silver dots dissapearing, purple dots reappearing in other locations. "See here, in Yanille, the Magic Guild attracts alot of power, as do rune altars and prayer altars. Houses can also attract alot of power, naturally, with the number of houses in Gielinor, house portals are one of the most common sources for power. Now, something to fuel their technology, wouldn't be one device, situated in one place, or the readings would be off the scale, and the device would be destroyed. Yet, we would still get an obvious power surge from several _beacons_, spread out over numerous places, transmitting the signal all over Gielinor, or, possibly, further. Effectively, they have the ability to hide transmitters in every common power hotspot over Gielinor. I believe Ghost Knife have an oaps, else, they would find concealing transmitters difficult, without knowing the main power hotspots."_

_"You talk as if you know their exact plan and when they plan to execute it," Daron interrupted, then gave a laugh. He then subsided as he saw Yanath give him a dissaproving look._

_"So, let me sum up. Ghost Knife are on a killing spree, and the killings are permanent. Their resources are coming from several power sources, concealed in places that don't look out of the ordinary, that already emanate a power source. And, the readings don't look any different from before because they've been here for so long. As I said, I'm going to send out some of my agents to find other Ghost Knife operatives, but, in the meantime, we still need to try and corrupt their power source. I'm to send some of my best agents out, but the problem is, none have skill as great as yours. I need somebody, like you, who can temporarily take up arms, and track these down." Daron grinned, a wide smile that spread across his cheeks._

_"I'd love it! Tell me where to go, and I'm there. Literally." Yannath pointed a finger at the oaps, and pointed downwards. As if using a long-range computer mouse, the map scrolled up at the movement of his finger, showing the worlds beyond Gielinor. Above Gielinor, was the Gotanavor, the centre-point for the seven regions. To the west, was Iganavor, the desert land. Above, was Jubanador, the mountain land. Up north, was Bomanavor, the forest land. North-east was Neccitor, the ice land. Just below, Utudaror, the midnight land. South-west, was Gielinor, it was always referred to as "the people land". East and above Utudaror was Nosavalor, the heaven land, a world in the sky. Yannath pointed at Bomanavor._

_"As I said made clear, there is a chance that the transmitters were not only hidden in Gielinor. We have always had strong readings from within the forest of Bomanavor. It's a very nice place, Bomanavor, but I'm not sending you on holiday. I want you to check out this reading. The chances are, it's a shrine, or some other significant source not, however, related in any way to Ghost Knife, but, it needs checking out nonetheless. If you agree -"_

_"Of course, I agree," Daron interrupted._

_"- Then I'll send you over there with a portable oaps to track the power source, with some runes, arrows, a suitable bow, and a weapon -"_

_"I have my own supplies," Daron interrupted again._

_"I realize that, Daron, but not the supplies you may need, if you are going against Ghost Knife. You'll need weapons placed under special Pre-MI6 enchantments, so you can perform spells you would not normally be able to cast, and a dragon sword that can obliterate literally anything."_

_"I'll go with special runes and arrows, but my Dragon Scimitar is unbeatable. It can obliterate everything, likewise." Yannath sighed. He used a spell to drag Daron's scimitar from his inventory, stored it in his desk drawer, and threw over an enchanted dragon sword he had spawned, likely teleported from some dusty old cupboard. Although, it was in as good condition, as much so as his Scimitar. He then drew out a single rune. It was marked with the infinity sign._

_"This rune, is infinite, as would be an easy guess, and provides any type of rune you need. Effectively, you can cast absolutely anything in an endless amount." Yannath passed it over._

_"Thanks. I promise I'll get the job done, or die in the process." Yannath frowned._

_"I don't want you treating this as an adventure, or a quest. This is a mission I am giving you, and, overenthusiasm may get you killed."_"Didn't, though, did it? Yet ..." said Tyora, laughing. Daron smiled.

* * *

"Nice to know you're always confident in me," remarked Daron.

* * *

_"I know that, I know, I'm just glad to be in this position."_

_"Check your spellbook, you'll find a new page in it, the infinite rune I gave you, it can cast alternative spells that, normally, only we can access. You can also use the rune to cast normal spells, but it's the other page you'll want. Oh, and one more thing you'll want." Yannath produced a small, silvery orb, reminiscent of a crystal ball, from his desk drawer. It radiated a soft, glowing, white light, and the energy coming from it could be seen easily._

_"A scrying orb," Daron and Yannath said in unison. Without missing a beat, Yannath said, "It's one with a slight difference, though. In that secondary spell set, there are a set of enchantments that will modify the orb's purpose, an emergency teleport, a retaining explosive, a long-range grapple. It's all terminology and spell-books, but, if you're going up against Ghost Knife, then they'll all come in useful, I suppose. Well, if we don't have anything else to discuss, let's send you off." Yannath paused, waiting to see if Daron had anything to say. Daron shook his head. "Good. Let's send you out of here, then." Yannath cast a spell on Daron, and a hole in the floor opened up. Daron fell into it, and, just as that hole closed, a hole opened up in the ceiling, as Daron fell back down._

_"Sorry, forgot, one more thing."_

_"Yes?" Said Yannath, managing to pull himself together after the gentle surprise of seeing him fall in the way he came. He didn't realize anyone could do that._

_"Can I bring a mate?" Yannath gave a small smile._

_"If you must," he said, after a long pause._

_"Cool. I'll see myself out this time." Daron pointed at the floor, and, once more, another hole came and swallowed him up._"Always nice to leave and re-enter with style," Tyora remarked, and gave another little laugh.

* * *

"Well, I didn't actually say 'mate', that was the word to stick in my head and watch me say 'associate who can assist me in my mission.'"

"Ah. So, I'm an associate am I?"

"Well, if the head of Pre-MI6 suddenly falls out of the sky, you are." They both chuckled, as Daron told Tyora about how he had been dwelling on his mission in that room, and thinking that he should bring her along, and how, when he left, he went over to Yanille, and found her house, to talk to her, and offer her a get-away in Bomanavor.

"How did you know where I lived, anyway?" Tyora asked him.

"When you were in my house, I could tell that you didn't think much of a Fremenik-based house. I confess, though, I tried Brimhaven and Taverley, first!" Daron laughed, and Tyora gave him a mock-reproachful look.

"A girl my level does have standards, you know," Tyora giggled.

"I've got standards too, just makes me glad that somebody fills them." Daron looked at her, and the smile on his face, dimmed, as he realized that, Tyora was quite beautiful. She tilted her head sideways, and smiled, as if studying him back. Soon, they were both looking at each other, closely, reading their expressions, and watching each other's eyes. Both of them seemed distracted. There was a long pause. Finally, Tyora was the first to snap out of the trance.

"So ... so, do you wanna get out the picnic?" She said, breaking the silence, at last.

"


	4. Chapter 4 Foresthand Experience

**Un  
****Chapter 4: Forest-hand Experience**

They were walking in a group of three. Not because it was safer - they were the elite - but because it was more efficient. More lives could claim more lives, as the Yan said. All were dressed the same, dark, black robes, that blended in with the night, like a chameleon, with dark, onyx gems encrusted into the shoulder pads, wrists, and waist. Black hoods, pulled low over their faces, a spell allowing them to see out, but for no light to get in. Even in mid-day, they could remain completely unseen. The one in the middle was slightly shorter than the other two, but he was stronger, and better equipped. He was on the director's board, so, he had alot more power than the other two, and could kill them at any time he wanted. But, no, they were not out to attack themselves. They were out for their mission, C6543, as it was named, proper names were never used in missions, those were costly. They were walking along a gravelly path, towards the Dark Wizard's Tower, away from Falador. As they approached the gate, the one in the middle raised a hand, gloved in black leather, and fired a ghostly white spell at the gate, that, at it's touch, began to disintergrate into small white particles of nothingness, then, dissapear. It was not what they used to kill people, but it was good for clearing annoying obstacles out of the way. The three walked purposefully towards the Tower, descending into the shadow that the building cast. As they entered the shadow, they did not even have to change, the onyx gems shrunk away, the fabric on their robes smoothed, and the hood, slunk away, a dark wizard's hat perched on their heads. Of course, the faces that whoever was inside would see, were not real, they were mere holographic reconstructions, to phrase it neatly. Their real faces were never to be seen. As they reached the door, the one in the middle disintergrated the door as they walked in, this time, reintergrating it once inside. Two dark wizard's were dwelling on the ground floor, their head's turning as they saw the new arrivals.

"Evening, Ron, Kathryn, Daniel," the first wizard bid welcome at the three, who were impersonating wizards well known to the people in this complex, for safety measures. The real Ron, Kathryn, and Daniel were likely being cleaned up from the floor, skeletons, remaining flesh, and all. The second wizard merely nod his head at them. The one on the right, who the first had called Kathryn, spoke, a harsh, yet, still female, tone, that sounded like a strict, elderly school-teacher.

"We've come to collect some pure essence. The Rune Archive in RL34 needs a fresh stock." The second Wizard went over to the wall, where there was a 20-digit code-box, numbers 0-9 and the first ten letters of the alphabet. The code needed two people to put it in, the two Wizards standing in front of the three rogues. The second, inputted his half, and stood back for the first one. Soon, the code-box swivelled over, to expose the back, which was an concave box, a big handle inside. The first wizard stepped back, and the one looking like Ron, moved towards the handle. He grasped it in his hand, and, the second his hand touched the handle, a dark light glowed, and an outline appeared from nowhere on the wall, tracing a rectangular shape, that formed a door. As the edges met, the handle suddenly moved forward a little, allowing him to pull it outwards, and open the newly formed door. If this wall was ever knocked down, it would only lead to the stretch of grass between here and Falador, but that was not what the door opened up onto. Ahead, was another vault. Reality Leak ... 38, if the female rogue remembered correctly. It contained shelves, lined with rune essence and pure essence, this supply was unlimited. But, obviously, they did not want to refurbish the Rune Archive. Ghost Knife needed it for themselves. As the three stepped out of Dark Wizards' Tower, carrying a limitless supply of pure essence, they left behind two bloody corpses, leaving a mess for the Wizards' to clear up, as they returned to their normal robes. There was a gust of wind, and they were gone, swept up by the breeze. They were not to be seen for miles. And that's right where they were. Miles away, where they would not be found.

* * *

Daron sliced his way through the forest with the Dragon Sword Pre-MI6 had gave him, using it to clear away the bushes and flowers that got in the way, Tyora behind him, in the dark forest.

"You're not David Attenborough, Daron," Tyora told him, a small smile on her face.

"Who?"

"I dunno, he was in some _Myths and Legends_ book I read a long time ago.'A man living on a heavenly world beyond the plains of Gielinor, who revolutionized his domain, by uncovering it's godly secrets,'" she quoted. "Sounds like a right nutter, if you ask me."

"Not ringing any bells," said Daron, as they made their way further into the night, with a magic light, filling the path in front of them with enough light to see clearly. Daron held the portable oaps in front of him, tracking the power surge with compass and map, only, the compass was a stick in a little bowl of water, and the map was a high-tech omni-analysis positioning system. Tyora glanced at the makeshift compass.

"Why didn't you bring a proper compass? Don't tell me you didn't have enough to afford one!" Tyora chuckled.

"No. If I'm honest, I just couldn't be assed."

"You mean, you forgot."

"That too." Tyora laughed again.

"You're hopeless, you are, you know that?"

"Least I have a hope of finding the damn power surge with this thing," he gestured at the ... poaps, he would call it, shorten the 'portable' so he could just use one acronym all the time. Whenever it was within a decent radius of a power source, it started to beep. It had been beeping, very slowly, just a while ago, at about three beeps a minute, now, it was starting to get faster, about 10 or 20 beeps a minute.

"We're getting close," said Daron, falling silent, to listen out for the poaps beeping every now and then. It was starting to get more frequent. Daron could see him and Tyora, marked on the map, and the power surge, about 1 centimetre on the map from them. Not much further. And yet ... was it Daron's imagination, or was it starting to get lighter? Dawn might be beginning to break, he thought. But, no ... he looked up at the sky. It was still a midnight black. And it was definitely getting ligher. Beep. A pause. Beep. A pause. Beep. Another pause. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep, beep, beep, beep - it was starting to get more frequent, the poaps was getting louder and faster. And, it was getting lighter. The light around the forest starting to glow, first, gently, and then, as they neared, more violently.

"What's tha -" Daron put his finger to his lips. He put the poaps on silent, and extinguished the light source floating above him. Finally, they reached a clearing in the forest. It was a mistake. Daron and Tyora caught a brief glimpse, of a tall pillar, rather like one he had seen at rune altars, glowing a violent white, emanating power, spreading it across Gielinor. And, illuminated by the light, were about 20 or 30 hooded figures. Ghost Knife operatives. That was a definite. And, every one of them had seen Daron and Tyora. Daron was ready for this. He had the scrying orb in his pocket, set to emergency teleport, and, he brought it out in a flash. Before Ghost Knife could do anything, he had grabbed Tyora, and the Orb, and teleported away. He and Tyora raised into the sky, and faded away. Suddenly, the pillar let out a thrash of energy, and, glowed even brighter than before, as Daron and Tyora were returned to where they had stood. The power source had not let them go. They were trapped. They were about to be killed, Daron knew it. He grabbed Tyora's hand, as if in farewell, and closed his eyes, as he saw them raise their hands. Every one of them had a precise aim at the two of them, Daron shut his eyes even tighter, waiting for it to happen, clasping Tyora's hand tighter, biting his lip. He could make out, through his eyelids, more white light, start to raise from nothingness, and channel towards them.

* * *

Daron woke. That was funny. Had he fallen asleep? What had happened? All he remembered was he and Tyora, hand in hand, as he felt a hard whack in the stomach, bowl him over. What had happened, since then? He had expected to find himself lying, but, he wasn't. It was ... hard to make out what was happening, at first. He looked around him. It certaintly wasn't heaven. Neither was it hell. So, what? Purgatory? Daron hoped it wasn't any of the three, and he was still alive. He was. He was within a small cubicle, surrounded by a rapidly fluctuating electric forcefield, that Daron didn't want to touch. It was only as Daron looked down, and felt around, that he realized he was naked. He didn't have any of his clothes on, or any of his weapons. They had all been taken. What was going on? The peculiar, cell, Daron would've described it, was about a metre and a half by a metre and a half, it had enough room to contain him, and a little leway, but that was it. He tried making out the distorted shapes beyond the electric forcefield. He could see a cell next to it, and, trying to look through two forcefields, he could just make out a woman, looking around nervously, also naked, her genitalia standing out to an extent that she didn't like. It was Tyora. It had to be. They must have been captured together, and locked up. Then, Daron looked in front of him, to find half a dozen black shapes, studying the two cells, none of them could be made out, all of their faces were hidden. As their heads turned to one another, Daron realized that they were exchanging conversation, and that he could merely not hear them through the forcefield. Finally, one of them raised his hands to silence them, and reached out to his side for something, Daron could not see what through the blurred electricity. It looked like something square, with a wire routing to the wall, and, as he or she spoke into it, Daron realized that it was a radio transmitter, linked into the cells.

"We, are Ghost Knife. You, are our prisoners." The man was merely stating the facts, Daron could make out no emotion. As he looked into Tyora's cell, he realized that she had heard, too. "You've come across a top secret facility, and we probably aren't going to keep you alive. We've removed all your weapons, and forms of contacts, the clothes were for safety measure, you can hide alot of weapons and gadgets in clothes. We know who you are, 9Daron99, and Tyora, and we know that both of you have Code 5 Authorization. Ergo, as a small consolation, you get to choose how you can die. You've got two days. You won't starve or thirst in there, it's an enchanted cell, oh, but, I wouldn't touch the walls, we don't enjoy cleaning up dead bodies. Anything you wanna say? The sound blocking system works one way, you don't hear us, but we hear you. There was a pause. Then, Daron broke the silence.

"Yeah, can you keep me and Tyora in radio contact?" There was another pause. The Ghost Knife operative considered for a moment.

"Yeah, fine, I guess you and your girlfriend can keep in touch. Use the radio in the wall, we'll patch it through to the one on the other cell. But, mark my words, we'll be listening 24/7." A Radio? Daron turned round, and was surprised to find a seemingly obvious radio situated in the wall, that he hadn't noticed before. Daron swallowed. He spoke no more. Tyora didn't say anything either. She seemed to be crying, hunched down on the floor, wiping her eyes. Daron wanted, more than anything in the world, to just open up her cell, and hug her, tell her, that it would be alright. As Daron sat down, his face buried in his hands in contemplation, Ghost Knife left the room. Daron wiped a single tear from his eye. This couldn't be happening. It was all over, and it had been so soon. He moved closer towards the radio, and spoke into it.

"Tyora ... it'll be okay ... we'll be alright ... I promise you we'll get out of this." The words were empty. Daron had no feasible means of getting them out of it at all. He no longer had any communication with the outside world. He didn't even have the infinite rune, his one ticket to getting out of here. He could have hidden it in his mouth, or between his legs, or ... other places Ghost Knife would have been very unwilling to check ... Daron shook his head. He could have, but he didn't. He crouched down, curled up on the hard floor, and, tried to put his mind on other things, when, he heard the radio crackle, and, a choking voice reply back.

"N-no, there's n-no way o-out of this," she sniffed, "We can't ... we can't escape, there's n-no way ..." Daron knew that those words were true, but it crushed his heart to see Tyora lose so much self-confidence. He paused, considering, still laying on the ground. Then, slowly, he raised himself up, and spoke into the radio.

"Then, there's one thing, I wan't to let you know," Daron chose his words carefully.

"Yeah?" Tyora choked.

"I love you." Daron had his hand resting against the wall, supporting himself, he had lost all energy, and yet, saying these words, seemed to make him feel a little better. There was another, longer pause, before, he heard Tyora say:

"I-I love you, too." Daron smiled at the woman in the other cell, hoping she would see him and smile back at him.


	5. Chapter 5 Traitor Amongst

**Un  
****Chapter 5: Traitor Amongst**

Aren sat in his tall, hard, wooden chair, facing Yannath, in a different room, a conference room, where the other most important members of Pre-MI6 sat. The Training General, the Deputy General, an elected representative of chosen Pre-MI6 agents, a Financial Advisor, and numerous other figureheads sat in chairs, currently silent, until it was Aren who broke that silence.

"Our men have been out to 6 Reality Leaks, RL21, RL38, RL4, RL19, RL12, and RL7. They have also visited the Magic Guild, the Air, Earth, Chaos, Nature, Fire, Law, and Mind Altars, among a hideout in the Kharidian Desert, currently unmarked upon the map of Gielinor. The problem is, Ghost Knife were at every one they found. Most of our agents got away, but, so far, from what we know from our other agents, six have been killed," Aren said the words bitterly, Yannath was not sure if he was angry for the fact that they had died, or that Ghost Knife had claimed some small victory over Pre-MI6. He suspected both.

"So, that would suggest, that, they've used, virtually, every power source over Gielinor," he said.

"It would seem like that, but it may just have been a fluke, we haven't visited every power source, some may not contain Ghost Knife technology. Oh, didn't you send a young man over to Bomanavor, Yannath?" Aren commented. Yannath looked at Aren.

"Yes, I did, but, no new so far. I'd like to think he's just taking his time looking, and, it may just be a fluke, the power source at Bomanavor isn't Ghost Knife regulated. But, we can't be sure of that. He's our only blank source. If he hasn't got in touch with us, nothing we can do," said Yannath. Then, the Deputy General spoke up,

"Wouldn't it be prudent to put a few agents on guard, around the area, just incase something's gone wrong? We can't risk losing another agent -"

"He's not another agent, Teran," the General, sitting next to him, reminded him.

"Yes, sorry, you're right, but, even so, we can't afford to lose him." The General opened his mouth to speak, so did Aren, but Yannath cut across both.

"Yes, I think that'd be wise. General Witan, send ... oh, ten agents over there. If anything's wrong, they'll need to be prepared, so, supply them well." The General closed his mouth, and nodded.

"Yes, sir," the General grunted.

"Already checked. Still decreasing," said Aren, in the same tone the General used. "There's not much we can do, Yannath, Ghost Knife are corrupting the empire, and, until we take out their power, we can't bring them down."

"Well, let's get started on that, then. Meanwhile, let's make sure our man in Bomanavor is safe. Unnecessary deaths hardly help." It was not something Yannath normally said, but he said it now, in a tone that suggested he was getting a little old for this job. Yannath just hoped he would have a good couple of years left for him in the Pre-MI6 business.

* * *

Daron woke up. Still no clothes on. God, he'd been in better situations, one day until death, held in a cage, completely nude, with the burden of telling his murderers how he chose to die. Daron had barely slept. Besides, how could he, with death hanging over his shoulders. He hoped that, at least Tyora would make it out. Gaining the strength to lean up slightly, he turned around, looking in the direction of her cage. It was dark in the room, and he could barely make out a thing, even with the electric wall, let alone trying to look through it. It took his eyes a while to adjust, even though he did not want to keep them open, he wanted to seek refuge in his own mind, to fall away from real life, to escape it, just for a second. There were no windows, they must be in a Reality Leak, or somewhere underground, yet, soon enough, it began to lighten up a bit anyway. And then, just as Daron could finally make out Tyora's cell, his heart crumbled into a thousand tiny pieces, tears swelling in his eyes, as he saw the sight, lay ahead. She was gone. Not there. She had been taken for her execution early, and Daron had not been able to say a proper goodbye. Tears dropped on to the floor of the cell, and he buried his face in his hands, not knowing what to do. Ghost Knife must have heard the sound, at least, one of them must have, for, he or she entered the room, at the sight of him crying. Tall. Hooded. Black. Intimidating. Daron was not sure what to think of the operative who had entered. As he looked up at him from the blurred electricity, he tried to make him out closer. Then, as he looked at the top of his chest, and saw the slight curves in his torso, he realized that this was a woman, not a man. Seeing him awake, she moved closer towards him, surveying him. Daron wiped the tears from his eyes again, looking at the female operative. There was only silence, one waiting for the other to speak. Then, Daron did.

"What are you doing?" he said, hoarsely. She did not respond for a minute. And then, she reached for the radio, and spoke into it.

"I came to make a deal with you, Daron." No. No, not this. This wasn't happening. As Daron heard the words echo through the cell, he knew who stood there. The woman, removed her black hood, and, in front of him, working for Ghost Knife, was Tyora. Her blurred eyes looked at him, mixed feelings crowding them, as she considered Daron, crouching there, looking at the woman he thought he had loved. He choked, and the tears came down harder.

"Ty-tyora, you don't ... you don't work for these people ..." Daron sobbed. "You can't ... why ..." Tyora tilted her head, and smiled sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, Daron. I never wanted you to be caught up in all this. Yeah, I work for Ghost Knife, but that doesn't mean anything should change. I still love you. This was all planned, right from the start. Ghost Knife knew, that, soon enough, Bomanavor was to be checked out, so they've always kept guards here. When I first met you, Ghost Knife knew where you were, they sent me there to gain your trust, in disguise, and then bring you down, but, when I saw you, I knew I could never do that. I wanted to be with you, all the time, and I still do. I couldn't let them kill you. So, they gave me a deal." Daron swallowed.

"W-what?" Tyora reached out for another control on the side wall, and the electric wall dissapeared, Tyora was now crystal clear, and Daron was conscious that his full body was exposed to her view. But her attention was focused on his face, which was helpful, because it spared him the blushes. She extended a hand.

"Come and join us, Daron, become a part of Ghost Knife, you and me, together, as one, in a glorious legion that practices the arts untouched by the rest of the world." Daron widened his eyes, swallowed, wiped away his tears, and waited, until he found he could speak normally. Daron shook his head.

"Tyora, I could ... I could never do that, I would never kill anybody forever! It's evil!" Tyora frowned.

"You kill people all the time, Daron, and you have done before. In Reality Leaks, in the Wilderness, before Pre-MI6 closed it off -"

"It's not the same!" Daron was close to shouting. "When you kill people in the rest of Runescape, they return to Lumbridge, unscathed, and return to their normal lives! But, here, at this, at this place, they go for good, never to be seen again! They lose their lives! How can you do it to people!" Tyora simpered at him, and stepped onto the cell platform, he was aware how close she was to him, and, right now, wished, more than anything, that he had clothes on. He stepped back, knowing that she was armed, and, wasn't sure if she was telling the truth or not, if she would kill him should he disagree. Which he had done. Tyora opened her arms, and stepped forwards, pulling Daron into a tight embrace. It was now, or never. If he didn't do this, he would die. He didn't want to do it to her, but he had to. Stepping forward, a little more, he took his leg, and slowly entwined it around hers, not enough for her to notice. Then, with one, swift movement, he bowled her over, grappling her leg with his, and, with a tight grip, he pushed her to the floor. Kneeling down, he gave her a two-finger strike to the temple, hard enough to knock her out, but, not hard enough to kill her. He had to do this. Carefully, he slid off her black robes, leaving her nearly naked body, there were only two garments covering her, now, and, thankfully for her, he didn't need them. He slipped on her robes, it felt good to be clothed again, and, pulling her unconscious body behind a drawer, he knelt down, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Sorry. I didn't want to do this to you." Daron swiftly left the room. As he entered the corridor, he walked at a normal pace. Nobody troubled him, because he looked just like the rest of them. But, he did not want to make conversation with any. He needed to find the way out, and fast. Still, he kept calm, if his agitation showed, there would be trouble. As he walked along an endless set of corridors, he found himself following a glowing light. He walked over to the source, and found a room, with an identical pillar to the one where he had been captured. There were a few surrounding it, patrolling the room. Watching closely, he saw an operative walk over to the pillar, bring out something from his/her pocket, show it to one of the men (or women, it was impossible to tell,) and, walk into the pillar. He or she dissapeared at the last second. Aha. It was an exit. The chances were ... Daron fished around in Tyora's robe pocket ... that she had an ID, or whatever had been shown to the Exit Guard. Brilliant. Daron had found it. He brought it out of his pocket, and walked over to the exit, calmly showing the ID to the Guard, who jerked a thumb at the exit, and allowed Daron to walk through the exit, out into Bomanavor. And, he was right. The scene was indeed familiar. He had not retrieved his own belongings, but that was not important. He had to get out of here, and fast. Waving to someone who said hello to who he or she thought was Tyora, he was about to leave the forest clearing, when an operative approached him.

"ID?" Daron calmly reached out for the ID card, and showed it to the man. Then, just for good measure, felt he ought to say something.

"Been sent out back to Gielinor, got some business over there, lost my teleport. Don't suppose you have a spare on you, do you?"

"Uh, let's see ..." The man fished around in his pockets. "Ah, here we go. Oh, nearly forgot, what's the password?" The man had a teleport clutched in his hands. He did not doubt Daron in the slightest, but it was standard procedure. Right now, Daron could only think of one word.

Bollocks.

He didn't know the password. He was going to be found out, sooner or later. So, he played for time.

"Password? Oh, damn, let me think ..." it had worked. The man had been momentarily distracted, and had not seen the foot come, nor had he anticipated where it had landed, and nor was he able to stop Daron from swiping the teleport right out of his hands. He threw it at the floor with all the force he could, but, just as he started to dissapear, the operative grabbed onto him, and was pulled with him, into the hole in the floor. Damn. This wasn't good. He had a tail, and this one wasn't fluffy. As he felt himself materialize in Varrock, he realized that two Ghost Knife operatives would have appeared suddenly. And were chasing one another. Daron ran, and as fast as he could, sprinting down the gritty pathway of Varrock, fishing around in the pockets for something that might be useful. Surely Tyora had weapons?! Ah. There it was. He found a scabbard at the side, with a powerful dragon sword, and a rune-pack, in the pocket. Daron didn't want to use the runes yet. Others were watching this mad chase out of Varrock, two Ghost Knife operatives, one intent upon killing the other. Odd. Daron dived, and pulled out in an expert break-roll, delaying slightly, so he caught up with the operative. With one motion, he pulled the sword out of it's scabbard, and drove it into his shoulder. He did not want to kill the man, he needed only to hold him up. Because, somehow, he had an awful feeling that, if he died at this sword, he would not come back to life. The man was injured, terribly injured. Looking up, he found some passers-by, watching him.

"Have you got any food?" He called out to them. They looked among themselves for a second.

"Uh, yeah, I got a shark, if that'll do," a man called reluctantly, all of a sudden.

"That's great, thanks," the man chucked the heavy fish over, Daron caught it in his arms. He held it high from the injured man.

"I'm going to give you this," Daron muttered to the man, "When you tell me _exactly _what I want to know." The man groaned, and slowly nodded his head. "Good. Now, tell me how to get rid of tho - ugh!" Daron felt a sharp, powerful sensation in his stomach, he found he was coughing up blood, over the man, and retching. Slowly, he summoned the energy to lean up, and see what had happened. The man had drove a sword into him. It was sticking there now, in his body, tearing through the flesh, and leaving a big pool of blood. Daron was breathing hard and fast, panicking. This was going to happen faster. He had the shark in his hands, he was losing grip, it fell onto the floor, Daron leaned down, and tried to reach for it. The man, also on his last strengths, kicked the sword, hard, the blade drove downwards in his body, causing another spurt of blood, slicing his vital organs. Daron had an arm outstretched, that now dropped, as he realized, he didn't have the strength to reach for it, and heal himself. Everybody else thought it was okay, they were both Ghost Knife, so what if they died, it wouldn't last forever. They'd go back to Lumbridge, or wherever _their_ respawn point was. But, no, this sword ... it ... was ... wasn't ... wasn't ... a ... nor ... normal ... sword ... Daron clutched his thoughts in his head, trying to keep alive, but black clouds were swimming his vision, and the world was spinning around him crazily. He could feel his heart-beat slowing, and, suddenly, he realized that the man must have incised the lungs, because all the air flooded out of him, and he found he couldn't breathe. He was now starting to thrash around violently, trying to avoid death, trying to reach the shark. Trying to reach the shark ... that shark ... that thing lived in the water, it didn't need to breathe, only water it needed, without it, it wouldn't survive. And then, one day of it's life, a huge hook had come down, that shark had taken the bait, and had his throat incised from the inside, then, he had been dragged up from his home, and taken to dry land, where he could die of suffocation. Daron was going to have the same thing done to him. No ... this couldn't happen. He wasn't going to die ... he couldn't die ... not now ... not here ... not in these clothes ... this was horrible. He couldn't see anything, as if his vision was failing, the nerves in his eyeballs failing. Daron couldn't feel anything. Okay. So, he was going to die. At least there wouldn't be anymore pain. He was just going to fall asleep, that was it.

Just going to ... gently ... fall ... asleep.


	6. Chapter 6 The Funeral

**Un  
Chapter 6: The Funeral**

The foosteps, rang, throughout the dull passageway, grey, dank, and miserable. The building had no charisma, with not even a pot plant or any other afterthoughts like that. Black, polished shoes echoing throughout the otherwise silent hall, as Tyora walked towards the office of Pre-MI6. As she approached the door, she read the two, neat, small plaques upon it.

_Yannath96  
Head of Pre-MI6___

Arena 54W  
Deputy Head of Pre-MI6

She turned the brass handle, and pushed it open, to find a grim-faced Yannath, sitting next to Aren, behind an executive desk that was as bland as the rest of the room. Tyora was not surprised, but, still a little dissapointed, to find no photos surrounding the walls, to spruce it up a bit. She and the two men that sat behind the desk were enemies, but, they did not know that, and neither did they need to. She stepped forward, slowly walking towards them, knowing what had happened, but, for now, she had to pretend she was only vaguely aware that the outcome may be bad news. Yannath studied her, carefully, as he kept a sombre expression, that Tyora knew, from experience, was just for the show. Tyora waited, waited for one of the two to speak.

"Your name is Tyora, yes?" Said Yannath, gravely. Tyora nodded. "What is your full name?" Tyora looked puzzled.

"That _is_ my full name." Now, it was Yannath's turn to raise his eyebrow. But he did not explain any further, instead, he addressed the news.

"I'm afraid, that I have some terrible news." Tyora gulped.

"9Daron99, has been murdered. By an organisation called Ghost Knife." Tyora feigned shock, and utter incomprehension. And, if he was honest, it was exactly what she felt. She already knew it, but, to hear it spoken aloud, made her feel as she had done when Ghost Knife had first told her.

"He ... he ... he was ..."

"Murdered." Yannath repeated. Tyora's eyes swam with tears. "I'm sorry," he said, blankly, without any real compassion in his voice. Aren brought out a box of tissues from underneath the desk, and pushed it along to her. She mouthed 'thanks' and blew her nose on a tissue, before letting out a sob. Aren gestured for her to sit down, Tyora sank into the spinning chair, waiting for the tears to subside. Eventually, she managed to choke,

"Where's he ... where's he being buried?" She sniffed. Aren brought up the oaps, and gestured to Lumbridge Graveyard.

"Right in Lumbridge. He'll be happy there. Would you like a teleport?" Aren brought out a Lumbridge Teleport, and offered it to her. Sniffing, she took it in her hand, and mumbled a thanks again.

"I'll see myself out, thanks," she said, dropping the teleport, and allowing herself to drop, like a stone, into a water, only the ripple seemed to close, rather than spread.

* * *

"9Daron99, was a wonderful man. A man of noble heart, and yet, was always a humble man, who treated others with kindness, and compassion. His death, was a curse of the followers of the unruly god Zamorak, but, it is not his kingdom that Daron shall find, in life after death. Although he never showed arrogance, or pride, of it, he was an unbelievably experienced man, who had a higher place in our heart, that he did, on the Highscores. As he descends below his grave, his soul ascends, and will rise to the kingdom of Lord Saradomin, a true blessing of afterlife." Father Aereck finished, looking very solemn, as he held his prayer-book in both hands, standing at the head of the graveyard before the grave, and the mourners who had come to grieve the death of 9Daron99. Daron's coffin was sleek, black, and made of polished, impermeable wood, and the body inside lay still, with a wide, red, sword wound in his stomach. At least, the stomach of what people thought was Daron. A silent mourner, sitting in the back row, watched the coffin, descend into the hole, carrying an elegantly made model, that looked exactly like Daron did, sitting there, disguised in H.A.M. robes, watching his own funeral. Although he felt sympathetic for the people who believed him dead, there was, a strange feeling of ... happiness, at the fact that people would miss him in death, that people would have felt like this for the death of himself. There would be a scandal once it transpired that he was still alive, but, nobody ever would. Pre-MI6 had been diligent. After they had finally found him, on the brink of death, lying next to another dying man, they had healed them both. They had interrogated both, until they had taken off their hoods, to find, only one guilty, and Daron's death was arranged. The other man, the Ghost Knife operative, had not been killed, fortunately, well, Daron said fortunately, despite the fact that he did slightly regret a member of Ghost Knife being spared. But, his memory had been wiped. They had used a powerful magic to modify his memory, change his appearance, and reset his name and level. His original name was unknown, the power source supplying Ghost Knife with their magic was also hiding their names and levels. But, it didn't matter, who he now believed himself to be, was Erow Pwnz, a Level 24 magic pure, who had a house in Taverley, and a cat, which Pre-MI6 had supplied. They had also changed Daron. He now appeared to be 50 W0T 89, Level 76. The original plan was to _become_, not appear, but, after a lengthy argument, between Yannath and Daron, they had agreed to just make him look like it.

_"How would you like to lose 56 levels and your own identity, that'd feel like shit, wouldn't it?" _Daron had protested, while Yannath maintained that it was for the sake of his life.

Daron:_ I don't care whether it's to protect me or not -  
_Yannath: _It's not just to protect you -  
_Daron: _Oh yeah? What else will it do, then, make me fly?  
_Aren: _It'll make you fly out the window, if you don't give it a rest.  
_Daron: _Okay. Throw me out the window then. Hang on a minute, where are the windows ...  
_Yannath: _Enough! If it means this much to you, we won't change it, we'll just make it look like it.  
_Daron: _Sighing That'll suffice. Thankyou._

And they had left it at that. Suddenly, Daron found that his funeral had ended. People were getting up from their chairs, talking with one another, some were crying, some were praying, and some were standing around his grave, looking at the pile of Earth that had been put over the top. Daron stood up. Where was she ...? Daron knew she was on the other side, but he was sure she would have tried to make his funeral. He looked all around, looking for a sign of Tyora, but, he couldn't see her. Then, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. He turned around. It wasn't Tyora. It was another woman, who he had never seen before, black haired, a few wrinkles on her face, and jade coloured eyes.

"Excuse me, where could I find your base, sir? I've come to deliver a package to the H.A.M. Deacon," she asked him.

"Here, I'll take it for you, next time I get round there, give it here," Daron said to the old lady.

"Thankyou," the old woman handed over the thick-set parcel, and, stashed it away in the pocket of his H.A.M. robes. The old woman thanked him, and walked away. Then, he felt another hand on his shoulder. Damn, who was it now? Why were H.A.M. members so popular? He turned around, a little miffed. And, he swallowed, trying to keep his hair on, as he saw who stood there, in front of him. Tyora was here, at last. But she couldn't know it was him. He had to keep in character.

"Hello, Daron," she whispered, softly, in his ear.

Ah, now he had a bit of a problem.

* * *

Daron stared at Tyora. Without saying a word, he gripped her arm, and dragged her out of the graveyard, into an empty building in Lumbridge, she went along with him willingly. He closed the door behind him, and soundproofed it with a spell. Tyora's eyes lit up, as he grabbed his H.A.M. robes, and threw them off onto the table, and she grinned, thinking that what he was doing was the beginning of something exciting. Daron stood, closing his eyes, allowing the artifical disguise to fade away, and his name and level to return. Then, he walked, deliberated, towards her, so that the two were face to face.

"What do you want, you two-faced, evil, cold-hearted bastard?" He spat at her with disgust. Tyora's face fell. She leaned closer towards him, making to grab him, trying to kiss him, but Daron pulled away, disgusted.

"I want to tell you, that, despite what you did, I still love you, and, I still want to be with you." Tyora held his arm, but Daron gripped her forearm, tightly, crushing it, and Tyora relinquished her arm, realising that Daron meant what he had said through his actions, and what he said now.

"I never, ever, want to see you, again! I trusted you, I trusted you right until the end, until, all along, you'd betrayed me!" Daron shouted at her, she was not afraid, but she did step back an inch.

"But, Daron, don't you realize? I was sent out by Ghost Knife to find you, and, when I found -"

"Oh, don't give me all that crap about 'love at first sight'," he interrupted, snapping at her, "Or any of that bollocks about not being able to do what your little gang had ordered you to, I tell you, Tyora, it was your choice to join a legion of murderers, hotheads, and bastards," Daron shouted at her, clenching his fists in anger. That had been enough. He had touched a nerve. Tyora's face had gone from disapointment, to rage.

"I've forgiven you, loved you, and ever since I've known you, stopped them from killing you -"

"Stopped! You stopped _them_ from killing you!" Daron let out a hysteric laugh, that had no humour behind the meaning. "Oh, that's believable, I think you'd like to say you _spared_ my life, eh? Trying to buff your reputation as merciful, are you? Well, you're no worse from the rest, you spineless whore. By day, the nice and respectable miss Tyora, by night, you don the hood, and go out and murder innocent people in cold blood." Tyora was now torn between rage, confusion, and misery. She looked angry, but, Daron could see, from her eyes that she was, at last, starting to feel remorse. Daron stared into those deep eyes, that were, right now, looking back at the lives they had seen fade away at the hand of the body they resided in, and, he started to see, the deep, tunnelling eyes for the first time. The eyes that had seen too much. They were a silent, dark and shady jewel green, that had seen the wonders of the universe, from start to end.

"Just think. Think, about all those lives, you claimed. Think, about those people," he muttered, in a soft, merciless voice They were just living ordinary lives, training hard, working hard, they might have had girlfriends or boyfriends, wives or husbands, families or children. And yet, because you exist, they live in nothingness, swimming in a realm of darkness, where no light, colour, or matter, exist, trapped for eternity in an afterlife of hell. They've disapeared off the map, completely wiped from all census, because, they no longer exist. People don't know why, it's a mystery to them. But I do. It's because you were here. Think, about their precious lives, fading away ..." Daron muttered. He looked at her. The rage had subsided. And, tears were starting to appear in those eyes. "Fading ... into nothingness, think of _their _eyes, Tyora, the eyes of a living man will burst with life, and, someone like you get's to watch that very life drain right out of them -" Tyora stood up, suddenly, tears falling on her face, her gritted teeth, and clenched fist, all painted the picture of a completely different woman.

"Stop it! Stop it, just ... just, stop it!" She shouted, her voice had cracked, and, she was starting to cry. Daron had made her feel the remorse of all the lives she had claimed, to those who had, even a shred, of doubt, about their own personality, remorse was a lethal thing. Daron did not smile, at the fact that she was crying, he did not frown, he merely remained expressionless. He did not feel sorry for her. He had nobody to feel sorry for. That woman in front of her was worthless, she no longer meant anything, her life was a danger to others. Her face hid in her hands, and, this time, she wasn't faking it, she was really miserable, and, her sobs were muffled by her arms, as she rocked, slowly, back and forth on the table that she sat on. Daron, who had been sitting down until now, got up, slowly, and walked over to her. He rest his hand, gently, on her head. Slowly, she leaned up, her features twisted in misery, tear tracks running down her face. He brushed her hair, softly, and leant down, closer to her.

"There we go. Now, that's sorry enough, for everything that you've done," he whispered. "Do you really feel, for what you've done?" Tyora slowly nodded her head, choking another sob, at the thought of all her actions, over the course of her lifetime. "Do you wish it had never happened? Do you wish it won't ever happen again?" Daron stroked her hair with his hand, his other hand, rested on her shoulder. She nodded again, saying nothing. He gently turned her around to face him. "Look at me," he said, "Look at me, Tyora," he repeated, when she avoided his gaze. Her green eyes found his blue. "If you promise, if you swear, on behalf of your life, that you will never see them again, then, I will always love you." Daron whispered in her ear, in a soft voice, that was finally filled with sympathy, and compassion. They stared each other in the eyes, emotions running through both of their heads, as they looked at each other, warm feelings pulsing through their hearts. Tyora nodded her head, feeling the love for Daron, that she had truly felt when she had first met him, wave through her, like a surge of powerful energy, bursting to get out. Daron held both her shoulders, still staring deep into her jewel-green eyes, leaning closer towards her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders. Tyora, slowly, got up from the table, standing up, as Daron pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing his lips against hers, warmth flooding through his whole body, as he felt Tyora kiss him back, feeling his mouth with her tongue, locked in a passionate, wonderful kiss. It was truly, the best thing Daron had ever done, in his entire life, feeling her lips against his, running his hands through her smooth, blonde hair, holding onto her like the world was coming to an end, and this was their final act. Well, it did seem to be, as they were interrupted by the door being blown down, from fifty to a hundred Pre-MI6 agents flooding in, dressed in red, all armed, some holding bows at them, some, with a red ball of magic in their hands, some wielding thrownaxes, and others, threatening them both with swords. General Witan, Yannath, and Aren stormed in past the crowd of people, yelling at Daron and Tyora, who pulled back immediately, shocked.

"Get away from her, Daron! She's dangerous!" Yannath shouted at him.

"Why don't we just kill her now. Hell, kill them both, why don't we?!" Witan barked at them. The agents raised their weapons even higher. If they so much as coughed out of place, they would be obliterated by 67, powerful weapons, all fired at once.

"No! Don't hurt her! She's not with them anymore!" Daron yelled, standing in front of Tyora, holding his arms out, shielding her from Pre-MI6. Yannath and Aren looked at Daron, a mixture of suspicion, and confusion on their faces.

"Alright, hold your fire," Yannath ordered. "But, take them both back to the base. I think neither of them are to be trusted, anymore," Yannath commanded, he was now treating Daron as if he was something nasty he had found stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Witan nodded, barking orders at the Pre-MI6 agents, and, they sidled out of the room, taking Daron and Tyora with them, both, chained by magic, both, unable to protest, else they would be killed, both, quite and truly, in for a bollocking to come.


	7. Chapter 7 Luck, and Lucky

Authors Note: The end paragraph contains major lemon, which is why this story was rated M, you have been warned.

**Un  
****Chapter 7: Luck, and Lucky**

The collective noun, for a group of members from any organisation, was an Investment, according to Gielinor grammar. However, this rule is broken, when talking about a group of Pre-MI6 agents, where it is called a raid, funnily enough. Ghost Knife, which often made some civillians laugh, were still an Investment. It was a piece of trivia Daron had read in a book, a long time ago. Not that it helped, anyway. The raid surrounded him and Tyora from every single angle, weapons all raised, all threatening to vaporize them with brute strength, should they try and move out of place. They were being hustled in the direction of the rest, pushed along, and grabbed, by the raid, as if they were some volatile scum that were dangerous to the economy, and dangerous to the rest of Gielinor. Tyora was not particularly worried, Ghost Knife training had taught her not to fear capture, else the game would be given away, although, Daron wondered if she was just hiding it well. At least, she was making an effort not to look over-casual, else it might be obvious she was trying to hide the worry. It was a psychological balance, that needed to be maintained. And, although it was named differently from place to place, Daron knew it as State Maintenance, something he had trained in himself, and, was now exercising very carefully, as the raid directed them to their base. People, all around Lumbridge, turned and stared at the raid, marching Daron and Tyora off with them. They couldn't see Daron and Tyora well enough, the raid made sure of that, but, Daron knew, with a sickening sense, that he had disabled his disguise. If anyone looked through the raid, whose names were invisible, and saw Daron's name, there would be a scandal. The problem is, he couldn't change either. They had previously disabled his disguise, and his ability to change clothes. Come to think of it, Daron wasn't sure if a scandal wasn't a good thing. If the raid were stopped by inquiring passers-by about Daron, they may get a chance to do something. Tyora looked down, idly running a beautiful necklace through her hands, the chain was made of a, sort of, silvery substance, that was neither liquid nor gas, wrapped around her neck, suspending a gold pendant with an onyx keystone within. Daron guessed that it was enchanted, but meant to look as if it wasn't. An agent prodded her in the bank, and muttered for her to pay attention. Tyora calmly raised her head, and kept her field of vision so she could see Daron, and the route ahead. Daron glanced, quickly sideways, at Tyora, at her face, seeing how she was dealing with this, as they walked through Draynor, through Port Sarim ... He looked down at her dragonstone necklace, that sparkled off it's purple surface in the half-light of the evening. It was not quite dusk, but later than the afternoon. It was twilight. Daron then looked away again. And then, he turned back. Something wasn't right. He glanced down at the Dragonstone necklace. None of the other agents were paying any attention to it, and none of them had seen it change from Onyx to Dragonstone. Daron hadn't either, but he had definitely seen a black centre-stone in it earlier, and, now, it held a deep-fuschia one, instead. It had certainly changed. She couldn't had un-equipped that, and re-equipped another necklace. The spells, stopping them changing equipment, were still activated. And yet ...

_"Oh, and by the way, you ought to upgrade your portal, it was actually locked before I entered." With that, she took out a black house control, pressed a button in the middle, and vanished. These last words made no difference to Daron, he examined the top-of-the-range exit portal, running a hand over the smooth surface._

And, more recently ...

_Why were H.A.M. members so popular? He turned around, a little miffed. And, he swallowed, trying to keep his hair on, as he saw who stood there, in front of him. Tyora was here, at last. But she couldn't know it was him. He had to keep in character.  
"Hello, Daron," she whispered, softly, in his ear._

Tyora had known it was him. That was supposed to be impossible.

_"Look, what if somebody looks through this disguise? What if, it doesn't work on everybody?" Daron said to Yannath. Aren rolled his eyes, and then, quickly averted his gaze, incase either of them had seen him.  
"That's impossible, Daron. No person Earthly bound can see through a disguise we put on for you. Of course, if you're not sure, we can ..."  
"No, I'm not making the disguise permanent. It's a Dalain Dragoon, or nothing," Daron interrupted._

She had managed to enter his house, when the portal had been locked. Daron had dismissed it then, thinking she must have got through fast, or, the portal, like she had said, must have been a bit faulty, but, no ... it couldn't have been faulty, and, nobody had the ability to write anybody's name, and step through a portal, that fast. Tyora had some ability, that was not known to anyone else. Or, maybe it was a Ghost Knife reserved ability, Daron hadn't seen any other Ghost Knife operatives previously break a binding spell, but it was not out of the question. And yet, there was something, not quite right, about that necklace. Daron, was renowned, as an excellent observer, he could detect and discern patterns, professionally, without a single mistake, and, that binding matter, that held the now Dragonstone pendant. It was the same, liquid-gas substance, and, it had the same pattern upon the swirling image. No two logs, snowflakes, planks, shards of metal, or, anything - for the matter - were ever, quite the same. He also looked at the pendant. Patterned, aswell, an elegant design that could never have been truly replicated, not even by the same hands, or the hands of a master forger, and, somehow, he knew that that pendant was the same. So, she hadn't changed the necklace. She had changed the stone. Maybe she did have the ability to break binding spells, but, Daron knew, now, that, she hadn't done so this time. Daron realized that he had been thinking quickly, they were still only just passing Port Sarim, and heading along the path that elemental wizards enjoyed using, a few highwaymen, lurking around, waiting for prey. One stepped forward. He was killed before he had even wielded his sword, by a powerful blast, from one of the raid. It wasn't really necesary, but, at least, unlike Ghost Knife, Pre-MI6 didn't have any magic powerful enough to kill permanently. Daron glanced once more at Tyora's necklace. The Dragonstone was starting to shine. Not much brighter, but, gradually, it began to pulse, the light growing brighter, and yet, was still making no difference to it's surroundings. The raid didn't notice, fortunately, but Daron did. It was now so bright, it had turned fuschia, and was blinking, first slowly, then faster, from purple to fuschia, like a hazard light. What the hell was it doing? They were moving along to Rimmington, now, approaching the house portal. General Witan raised his arm, and fired a spell up in the air, that, when it reached it's peak, exploded, making a loud noise, that caught everyone, except the raid, off-balance. General Witan yelled at the few people around Rimmington.

"Out of here, now! That means everybody! Out, or we fire!" Everybody, NPC and Player alike, fled. Aren walked over to the house portal, and rested his hand upon the portal. Soon, his hand began to glow a violent red, as he cast an explusion spell upon the House Portal. About a hundred people suddenly spurted out of the Portal, landing on top of each other, some, fleeing, as they saw the raid, others being yelled away by Witan. Then, Aren fired another red spell at the purple portal, that, started to turn the same red as the spell fired upon it. Daron glanced at the necklace. It had stopped blinking, and was now a bright, fuschia, much lighter than the original colour. Tyora did not pay any attention to it, but Daron saw her, glance down at it, pretending to be looking at the floor. Yannath and Aren, were about to walk into it, when, suddenly, one of the agents tripped over. It was insignificant, but caught Witan's attention anyway. He walked over to him and dragged him up by the ear.

"Get up, and stay up," he growled menacingly." The agent clearly wasn't quite as good at State Maintenance, and, fear crept through.

"Oh, leave him alone," one of the agents sighed, at Witan. This, had clearly hit a nerve. Witan turned around, his face red, a vein throbbing in his neck, and his fists clenched.

"What did you say?!" Witan barked.

"I said, leave him alone, sir," the agent repeated coolly.

"You, will show me some respect, private, or you will get thrown out of Pre-MI6, you understand me?!" While this unnecesary argument was going on, Tyora glanced at Daron, and down at his hand. She saw a ring there. It was the Dalain Dragoon, Yannath had given him, that allowed him to disguise himself, but currently wasn't working. Edging slightly closer, not so anyone could see her, she reached a steady finger out, and touched the ring called a Dalain Dragoon. It had an emerald on top of it, that had previously been clouded by mossy green, but, at her touch, lit up, bright emerald again. She then touched his hand, as if to get his attention. He glanced at her, looking at her eyes, and, she gave a small gesture towards his hand. Daron examined the ring, and, without looking at her, pointing at the ring, as if asking if this was what she meant. She gave a tiny nod, just enough so Daron could see it. Daron shook his head. He looked all around at the raid, gesturing at them. Tyora shook her head, and swept her hands horizontally, motioning the words "Don't worry", and then, pointing a thumb at herself. She ran the necklace through her hands. Witan and the agent were holding up an irritated Yannath and Aren, but, they were indeed, holding them up. Finally, Yannath spoke.

"Look, General, please let's get on with this, we have business to do -" And then, there was a loud beeping. And another beeping. About 69 loud, rapid beeps all sounded, at slightly different times, leaving the air flooded with annoying little beeping noises. The raid glanced at something on their wrists, like a wrist-watch, only, more complicated, it seemed to be a small computer, on all of them. All of them, were suddenly alert. Witan spoke first, leaving the agent who was troubling him.

"System update! Safety measures! Activate Code 8 protocols, or we'll all be hevited!" This was an uncommonly used word, reserved for Pre-MI6, but Daron knew it meant, halted in time, frozen, and kept still, unable to do anything. They were likely to be left to hevit, while they were taken away by Pre-MI6, who were safe under, whatever Code 8 protocols were. Daron knew what Code 8 was, and it meant that a System Update was going to occur, heviting whoever didn't leave reality in time, or "log out" as the phrase was. He watched them all change into black, leather suits, completely hiding their face, body, legs, hands, and feet, and all of their back. It looked like this would protect them from Heviting. This was distraction enough, the whole business. Tyora ran over to Daron, gripped his hand, and muttered,

"Use the Dragoon! Now!" Daron didn't need telling twice. He pressed the ring, and, immediately, his name, level, and appearance, changed. Tyora grabbed his arm, and then, pulled into a hug, at the same time, dropping a teleport, opening a hole in the floor, that they dissapeared through, quickly. Pre-MI6 had noticed. Witan, in his anti-heviting suit, ran over, but didn't manage to open the hole in time. Yannath ran over to where they had dissapeared, at, held a finger out, gloved by leather, by the place where the hole had gone. Studying it closely, he held a finger up, and examined small bits of dust, that looked strangely out of place, there. They were blue.

"It's difficult to tell, but I believe that was a house teleport," said Yannath.

"Who dropped the teleport?" Witan asked, aggressively.

"Tyora, it seems," Aren commented.

"And, where does she live?" Witan barked at Aren.

"Yanille," Yannath cut across Aren, who had his mouth open to speak.

"We'll get them if it's the last thing we do ..." Witan muttered, and, crouching into a squat position, he rest his hand on the floor, fingers spread out, casting a powerful magic upon the ground, as his hand lit up red. Eventually, the ground started to ripple outwards, from Witan's hand, first, spreading everywhere, and then, concentrating underneath all the other agents. The ripple grew, steadily more violent, as the cracks in the ground underneath Pre-MI6 disappeared, the surface then becoming very smooth, and turning blue. As an outline began to form above the transforming ground, bordering off the rest, the ground had then completely turned into what looked like water, and all the agents fell into it, including Witan, Yannath, and Aren, yet, even as they hit the water, none of them turned wet, at all. As Tyora and Daron appeared in their house, they locked the portal, and cast powerful spells upon the portal. Pre-MI6 may have four possible spellbooks, instead of one, but Daron and Tyora still had the magic able to prohibit any changes upon the portal. Pre-MI6, however powerful, could not expel them. The System Update was drawing near, the sky above them beginning to turn white, as 67 Pre-MI6 agents fell from the sky outside the Yanille portal, they could see that it was drawing near. Still, their anti-hevit suits would work for them. The sky grew brighter, as, nearly everywhere was deserted, people fleeing the oncoming System Update. Tyora and Daron, inside, would be affected, too, if something wasn't done, but, Tyora was doing it already. She held her necklace, gripping it tight, it flashed once, and, the sky, began to dim. The sky inside the house was, within a matter of seconds, absolutely black again. But, they weren't done yet. Tyora ran over to Daron, whispered her plan in his ear, and then, reached in her pocket for her house control device. She left the house. Outside, the system update was on the brink. Tyora had only disabled it in her house, her magic powerful enough to do so, and, in the hustle, she was not immediately noticed as she lurked behind the portal, from where she had emerged. Raising her arms into the air, she fired a powerful spell, well, she would have called it powerful, because it worked against Pre-MI6, but, it was actually a simple spell. As the magic rained down upon them, and Tyora returned to her house, the Anti-Hevit suits began to fade away, leaving behind their Pre-MI6 clothes, as the System Update, reached completion.

* * *

Tyora emerged from the portal. The chase was over. They had escaped. She had successfully frozen Pre-MI6, and ensured that, when they unhevited, they would not be able to reach each other. Daron was sitting in a deckchair, outside, arms rested on the arms of the chair, grinning, at Tyora, as she walked towards him. He got up, and made towards her, as they kissed each other once more, picking up from where they had left off.

"Nobody can get in, and everyone out there is hevited," said Tyora, beaming, merrily, as she pulled away, at last.

"Tyora, you're a genius, did I ever tell you that?" Said Daron.

"You did now." They both smiled warmly, in each others direction, as, Tyora held the necklace in her palm, letting it return to Onyx. Then, Daron's face became more serious, as he rest his hand over her shoulder.

"I love you, Tyora. And, I want to be with you, for the rest of my life - I never want to let you go. But, before all this happens, you owe me, a big explanation. I want to know everything." Tyora's face became serious aswell. But she couldn't hold it for long, and, her face broke into a grin, again. She patted his arm.

"Come on, you. Follow me, and I'll tell you everything." Tyora led him inside her home. Seeing her Demon Butler, she muttered to him, saying that he could have a break, and, could go outside, if he wanted. The Demon Butler bowed, to her, and left.

"You hevited your own servant?" Daron said to her, but she merely gave a laugh, and, led him to the bedroom. She lay down on the bed, and he lay down next to her, as they held each other in their arms, both, gazing into each other's eyes again. Then, taking one arm back, so she could lift up the now onyx necklace, and show Daron, he told her all about her Luck Necklace, it remained a simple onyx necklace, that could not be revealed, until she, and only she, activated it, and it could bend the wonders of the universe, to give her the Luck she needed, to do what she needed. While trapped by the raid, she had wanted a distraction, and used the Necklace to give her exactly that, allowing them to escape, and then, to disable the System Update in her house, and only that, so that everything else would be hevited. She then told him all about her power, given to her by the god Guthix, to break spells of binding, a power that was called Lock Flux. It could break enchantments, seals, locks, and, practically anything under that category, at merely a touch. It also allowed her to see through disguises, like the Dalain Dragoon Daron wore, and to see where she wanted. She told him all about how, as a child, her parents had been murdered by a member of Ghost Knife, who had threatened to kill her if she didn't join their forces, she had miserably agreed, and received special training, before, getting used to the killings. Ghost Knife had then sent her to spy on Daron, and, if possible, to try and get him dead, but, Tyora, as Daron already knew, hadn't been able to do it, and told them that Daron was already under close watch from someone else, that he might be ridded of before they needed him gone. Then, when Ghost Knife had realized that Daron had survived, after all that had happened, they sent Tyora after him to finish the job. Daron needed no further explanation from there, they both knew the rest. While Tyora had been explaining to him, he had been listening closely to every word, in fascination, utterly concentrated upon her, and no-one else. Then, Tyora stopped talking, and neither of them said anything, held in each other's arms, finally, together, without Pre-MI6, or Ghost Knife, or anybody, nobody mattered to them right now, except for each other. There was a silence, in which neither moved, until, Daron leaned towards her, and kissed her, for the third time, lying on top of her, on her bed, in a warm embrace with her. Then, as they pulled away, Daron fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, loosening it, then throwing it off.

Later that evening.

Tyora, rolling over, panting, breathless, her face twisted into a weak smile, as she stared into Daron's eyes. Then, Tyora slid underneath the covers, as Daron joined together, they held each other, closely, both, still naked, as, after locking in a passionate kiss once more, Tyora spoke, for the first time, since they had made love.

"You know I love you, Daron. And I always want to be by your side." Daron smiled at her, pressing up closer, feeling her breasts on his chest.

"I love you, too. Tyora." And, they fell asleep, in each other's arms, lying, side by side, within the other, in mind, heart, and soul.

**The End.  
Thankyou for reading "Un", written by Paint a Story. Write a Picture.**


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